Tangled in Your Arms
by redfenix
Summary: Logan in a tux? What is the world coming to? Wolverine&Jean WARNING: Saccharine induced fluff don't say I didn't warn you.


Tangled in Your Arms  
X-Men characters: Wolverine/Logan, Jean Grey  
Rating: R (heavy on the R; it's not overly explicit but there's a lot of it)  
Warnings: This is highly, highly saccharine inducing fluff. But really now, don't we all need some once in a while? Yes, I realize this scenario is over the top and completely uncharacteristic. But hey, life's rough. Sometimes, you just gotta deal.  
Comment/feedback is always appreciated.

"You can't be serious." The flat look he gave her told that he was.

"You're going to wear a tux? To dinner?" He nodded. "Downstairs?" His rich brown eyes rolled and he turned, disappearing into the hallway.

She studied her own choice of clothing in the full length mirror and suddenly, the faded mint green tee and worn denim shorts she had thrown on earlier did not seem like such a great idea. Just what the hell was he up to anyway?

With Logan, she had learned to always expect the unexpected. Nothing was simple with that man.

Ever.

Jean noticed he was gone as she stepped out in the hall and silently pondered the situation at hand as she made her way to the dining hall. Muted lighting greeted her as normal when she swung the door open and entered the room.

Most of the adult team members sat around the large table at the head of the room just as they always did. The room was buzzing with the students loud talking and everything appeared just as it should be.

Except, of course, for Logan who was sitting off to one end of the front table, still decked out in the black and white tux. He stood out in the sea of t-shirts and shorts the other students and adults were wearing that were much like her own. She quickly scanned the room for other discrepancies. None existed.

Blowing out a breath, she made her way up to her place next to Professor Xavier. Logan smiled wide at her but said nothing as she passed behind him. Frowning, she couldn't help but shake the feeling that something was off. She knew he was up to something, but what it was kept eluding her.

Still thinking about what was going on, she nearly missed her chair as she was lowering herself to sit. The Professor gently nudged her mind and brought her back to reality. Face flushing red now; she dipped her eyes to study the plate of food in front of her. Seeing her food was just like everyone else's she lifted her fork and began to eat.

The din in the hall quieted as everyone became enamored with eating their dinners. Her eyes constantly swept the hall for any signs that something was amiss. Waiting for the moment, any moment, when this strangeness was explained to her.

Several times her eyes had come to a screeching halt on Logan as he ate. Each time they did a smug smile would crease the corners of his mouth. His eyes would cut to meet hers and she would quickly avert them away, embarrassed that she had been caught staring.

The meal passed uneventfully. However, just as everyone was finishing up their dessert, Logan rose from his seat and excused himself from the dining hall. She watched as he crossed the room and headed for the other hall door. He paused when he reached it and turned his head to look at her. Making sure he had her full attention, he winked and mouthed one single word to her before disappearing through the hinged door.

Startled, she could do more than simply blink her eyes in astonishment as she watched the door swing back into the room. Her eyes swept the room again and she concluded that no one else noticed his antics. Again, she couldn't stop herself from silently wondering what he was doing.

Turning, she politely excused herself from the table and disappeared through the same door Logan had exited from moments before. She found the hall empty and she carefully made her way down it. Rich embossed wood surrounded her. This particular hall was used for visiting guests and prospective students. It was a rare time that she found herself wandering this hallway. Without realizing it, she stopped briefly to admire the incredible handiwork but caught herself when her curiosity again got the best of her.

She passed five more mahogany doors before coming to a halt in front of a pair of them. The library doors. "Library." The solitary word he had mouthed to her before winking and leaving the dining hall.

She knew there were times Logan became lost in the room, absorbing himself in the numerous volumes the Professor kept on hand. But why in the world would he lead her to this place now and dressed as he was? She thought back to the time she had accused him of seriously losing his mind; it seemed that this time it was it was quite literally occurring.

She knocked softly on one of the doors and heard the sound echo in the cavernous room behind them. No answer. It was not as if she really expected one in the first place. But it couldn't hurt to at least try.

She gently nudged the door inward and peeked around the corner before entering. The room was bathed in the warm soft glow of hundreds of candles that were scattered around the room. Every flat surface of the room that was able to support the feather light weight of a lit candle had one perched on it. Her jaw went slack and she stared around the room open mouthed in disbelief.

Now she was sure there was something going on, there was no mistaking it. Her eyes adjusted quickly to the flickering lights in the room and she spotted Logan, still dressed in the tux, sitting in a plush red velvet chair near the center of the room. His leg was thrown casually over the arm of it and a book lay open upon his lap. His mouth moved silently in rhythm as he read from the pages before him.

"Just what the hel-" His voice rose at the same moment and the rest of the sentence died in her throat.

"Empty your heart of its mortal dream."

"Excuse me?"

"The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round," he whispered, his head never lifting from the pages that he stared at, his voice never wavering in its pitch as he read. "Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound, Our breasts are heaving our eyes are agleam, Our arms are waving our lips are apart; And if any gaze on our rushing band, We come between him and the deed of his hand, We come between him and the hope of his heart."

Still not making eye contact with her he shifted his foot from the arm of the chair and rose. "The host is rushing 'twixt night and day, And where is there hope or deed as fair? Caoilte tossing his burning hair." The book snapped shut and she jumped when she realized she had been staring at it. His eyes met hers and he smiled. "And Niamh calling Away, come away." His voice trailed off with the last word as he came to stand in front of her.

Jean swallowed hard, her heartbeat thudding painfully against her ribcage as he trailed his fingers down her jaw. His thumb came to rest on her chin and he kept it there as his mouth lowered to hers. Her stomach tied in knots as his lips gently met hers. Unconsciously, her lips parted slightly, urging more from him. Oh she would get more, but that was planned for later.

He pulled back, dropping his hand to slide into his silk lined pockets and offered no clues. She stared at him until she could no longer stand the silence of the room. "What was that?"

"The Hosting Of The Sidhe." The look of confusion on her face made him stifle a laugh. "Yeats."

"Oh."

"Irish poet." Still nothing but a blank look from her. He extracted one of his hands from his pocket and dismissed his words with a wave. "Charlie got me started a while back."

The very same man that she had walked in on the media room the other day listening to ear splitting, pulse pounding hard rock was reading poetry? This was growing more bizarre by the second. "Oh." she simply said again. "But that doesn't really explain why."

"Why I was reading it to you?" She nodded. "Or why the room is filled with hundreds of candles?"

"That too."

"Ah, but I think what is most important to you is, why am I dressed in a tuxedo?"

Her head tilted and she waited for an answer to all of these questions. Though she doubted that even a clear, concise answer from him would sufficiently answer her questions.

Picking up the slim leather bound volume; he wrapped his hand around hers and pulled her across the room to the far row of bookshelves. He returned the book to its rightful place and turned so that he faced her once again.

Her heart skipped a beat as she stared up at him in this light. Candlelight danced in his eyes, setting the brown color on fire. His face was partially shadowed and she could just make out one corner of his mouth turning up in a smile. Even with all the missions they had been on together and all the times they had seen each other at their worst, she had never seen him look more dangerous that he did right now.

Mischief flowed unchecked in his eyes. He leaned forward, angling his head to press his lips to hers once again. She stepped back before she could stop herself. His eyes narrowed and he tried to step forward into her again. She repeated her tentative step backward and hissed out when her back contacted sharply with the Steinway that she had forgotten was in the room.

She instantly lifted her hands to press against his chest in defense. She felt muscles tighten and bunch through the fabric under her palms as he breathed in and out in controlled deep breaths.

She felt his voice rumble in his chest as he spoke low to her once again. "From the same source I have not taken. My sorrow; I could not awaken. My heart to joy at the same tone; and all I loved, I loved alone." His voice trailed off, his eyes glinting in the light.

"Yeats?" Her voice cracked as she spoke, hinting that the tight rein of control she was holding on to was slipping.

"Edgar Allen Poe." He punctuated each word by brushing his lips softly against hers.

Suspicion rained down over her and her eyes drew to thin slits as realization bloomed. The tux. The candlelight. The poetry. Everything was adding up perfectly. "Are you trying to seduce me?"

"Darlin', I'm not trying. I _am_ seducing you."

Her eyes snapped open in shock as his words sank in and she felt her breath quicken. She swallowed hard again, struggling to retain her hold on her composure. His mouth angled over hers and captured her lips. The kiss was gentle but insistent. It dripped of the promise of what was to come.

His hand settled around her waist and she found herself being lifted onto the smooth top of the piano. The wood was cool against her heated skin. He smiled at her again as she slid a finger along her chin before allowing it to dip into the hollow of her neck.

"Why?"

His eyes followed the line his finger was traveling over the cotton of her t-shirt. His hand disappeared beneath the fabric and fluttered against her skin. She inhaled sharply at the contact and let her eyes drop closed once again. "Figured what the hell? I thought it'd be nice to have a sexy redhead underneath me, sweaty and screaming."

"I am not having sex with you Logan." She spoke through gritted teeth, her voice straining as his fingers trailed over her abdomen. The spoken words did not match the thoughts racing frantically through her head. Damn but the man could make her feel out of sorts.

"Oh but you won't." His fingers dipped low, dropped into the waistband of her denim shorts and released the top button before she could protest. "I'm going to have sex with you."

Her shirt was over her head and tossed into a corner before she could get the words of protest out. She struggled to find her voice, complain again that she was most certainly not going to have sex with him. Not right here, not right now. The words forming in her throat couldn't seem to make it past there however and she quickly found herself facing him in nothing but her thin lace bra and panties.

Still clad in his tux, he pulled her face down to his and spoke softly against her lips. Quiet promises filled the space between them as he told her in great detail just exactly what his plans were. His breath hot and moist against her lips as she heard his breathing quicken as he spoke.

His other arm wrapped around her back and she felt the snap of the catch on her bra. Her heart rose into her throat as the bra dropped neatly into her hands. Pulling away, he eyed the intricate pattern of her lace underwear. His eyebrow lifted in question and she shook her head no when she realized he was planning to cut them off of her. She shifted quickly and soon the garment followed the bra into the discarded pile of her clothing.

So much for saying no, she thought. First she implicitly tells him that this wasn't going to happen and then all but handed him an invitation by stripping her own underwear off. Inhaling sharply, she fought for control of her raging heart. Sitting before him wearing nothing at all while he stood before her fully clothed was overwhelming and exciting. And she knew that is exactly what he had planned. Her blood pulsed like a bullet racing through her body.

His finger found its way back to her waist and trailed a slow line down her abdomen to disappear between her legs. He made no move to step closer, the single finger the only contact between their flesh. She inhaled sharply as his finger slid into the wetness and could only manage to smile when he questioned with his eyes about the slickness between her legs.

Instinctively, her legs slid apart, exposing more of herself to him. A groan rumbled in his throat as his finger slipped easily inside of her now without the resistance of her thighs. Her eyes fluttered closed as her head fell back.

His free hand came up to press gently against her shoulder and she found herself easily dropping her back to press against the polished wood. His finger pressed further inside of her as he moved to stand between her legs, his hips pressing his already painful erection against the solid surface of the side of the piano.

His breath caught in his throat as she arched her back off the lid of the piano, urging his finger to slide deeper. He pressed further, sliding the pad of his finger against the walls inside of her. Her entire body hitched and her breath hissed from her lungs.

He withdrew his finger slowly and couldn't help but close his eyes as a low groan emitted from her throat. Lowering his head, his tongue flicked over her causing her body to jump again. Pressing his lips to her it was only a matter of seconds before she was squirming against him. Her hips subtly pressed upward to the ceiling urging more from him. Her voice rumbled in her throat as she groaned each time his finger withdrew or his tongue grazed over her.

Sensation layered over sensation. Reality became indistinguishable. The candlelight illuminating the room splintered into a thousand pinpricks of light as her vision blurred. A slow, sweeping orgasm rippled through her body and caused a deep sigh to escape from her lips as it washed over her. Her taste flooded out over his tongue and he sipped greedily wanting to consume every last drop.

Her muscles relaxed around his finger and she sighed again as warmth washed over her. His finger withdrew and she whimpered in protest at the cold air that swirled between her legs now as his contact ended. She fidgeted against the wood top beneath her and wondered where he had gone. Lifting her head she saw him still standing between her legs simply staring at her.

"What are you doing?" Arousal wove heavily through her voice as she spoke. Her heavy lidded eyes glassy and unfocused as she struggled to maintain their eye contact.

"Looking at you." His voice cracked as he spoke and his eyes darkened abruptly when her hand slid down between her legs. Within seconds he was on top of her, tuxedo discarded and forgotten on the floor. He lifted her hand and raised it to his mouth as he settled himself between her legs. His tongue slowly circled her knuckle before he shifted two of her fingers to close his mouth over them.

The tips of her fingers grazed along the top of his tongue and the taste of her filled his mouth again. Her fingers trailed over his chin as she extracted them from his mouth and dropped them to rest lightly in the hollow of her neck.

Rising to his knees, he fitted the pad of his thumb to her clitoris. She gasped out when he flicked his finger over it and pushed himself forward to enter her at the same time.

The candlelight around her faded into the background. Her only conscious thoughts were of the man hovering over her and their single connection. He shifted, began moving slowly. Lifting her legs, she exposed more of herself to him and smiled as his eyes dropped closed when he was able to slip deeper inside of her.

Silence filled the room as skin glided gently against skin. Her back arched involuntarily and he smothered a groan as he impossibly slipped deeper inside of her. Her hips bucked against his and he struggled to control the raging sexual beast pacing under the surface of his skin.

His head dropped to her chest, his tongue dragging tortuously along the underside of her breasts. The slick sandpaper texture of his tongue glided expertly over her skin causing arousal to spike within her. Her fingers fought for purchase against the slick surface of the piano top and she searched frantically for an edge of wood to grip.

"Above you." His voice was strangled and low as she frantically lifted her hands above her. Her slim fingers fitted around the sanded edge of the lid and her knuckles instantly turned white as she held on tightly. A thin film of sweat beaded along her forehead and her eyes squeeze tightly shut in concentration.

"Don't think." He whispered as he lowered himself to press the full length of his body against her. "Just you and me. Right here." His hips ground rhythmically against her as he slipped in and out.

She tossed her head from side to side in protest even as her muscles gripped around him tightly. She cursed him under her breath, fought against the tension fighting for release between her legs. Her eyes flew open when his hips pulled back and stopped altogether. He hovered on the edge of just slipping himself out of her completely.

Her emerald green eyes sparkled in question at what had caused this sudden halt to their lovemaking.

"Jeannie." Her name slipped past his lips in a soft oath as he pressed himself forward, burying himself as far as she would allow.

The room around her splintered. Her cries resonated through the large room as the strong orgasm clenched hard inside of her and violently released. Her lungs burned for air and her heart thundered in her ears as the waves relentlessly pulsed through her. Her muscles milked him, caressed the entire length of him. It caused him to finally release his own grip on reality and plunge after her.

Small flickers of light were the first things to make themselves known in her vision. The room slowly came into focus and her brain was finally able to complete a coherent thought. Her back protested painfully at the once comfortable piano lid and she whispered in his ear about finding more adequate cushioning.

He effortlessly carried her to the couch where they collapsed together. Her slumber so deep she did not even realize when he pulled a thick blanket over the both of them and succumbed to sleep himself.

His eyes opened slowly when he surfaced from unconsciousness. Realizing she was no longer pressed against him, he shot to a full sitting position. His eyes frantically searched the room for her.

A slight smile formed on his lips when he finally spotted her standing in front of slightly open window. A soft breeze filtered through the gap in the casing catching the tails of his stark white tuxedo shirt that she was now wearing. The light wind parted the unbuttoned fabric slightly and let the moonlight streaming into the room illuminate her skin.

Her lips were still swollen from his kisses. Her red hair tousled from being cradled in his arms during sleep and sex. She was lifting a hand to run absently through it when his voice broke the silence of the room. "Don't."

Surprised, she gasped out and jumped, parting the fabric of his shirt even further and giving his eyes full access to her nakedness beneath it. A sheepish grin lit her face. "Sorry, I thought you were still asleep."

"I was." He levered himself off the sofa and came to stand behind her. "I like you in my shirt." He slid her hair to the side and pressed his lips to the back of her neck.

"It smells of us." She murmured as his teeth gently nipped at her skin. His lips grazed her skin as he nodded in agreement. "Thank you."

His hands slid around her, parting the shirt before closing gently over her breasts in possession. "For?"

"Everything." Her breath sighed out of her mouth as her head dropped back to his shoulder. She pressed herself back, his erection solidly pressing against her bottom.

He murmured something about moving to the couch, but she reached behind her to slip her hand between them. Her hand closed over him and she guided him to between her legs again. The ache to have him inside of her again too strong to wait the few seconds it would take to cross to the couch.

She panted as she stretched her body languorously against his when the act was complete; when her desire for him was sated, at least for now. His hands trailed up her body and captured her chin once again. She strained her neck around, opening her mouth to his.

"You're welcome." He breathed into her mouth before kissing her.

He smiled in the dark as she lay curled in his arms on the couch once again. There wasn't much to this romance thing after all. He played aimlessly with the tail of his shirt that she was still wearing. Seeing her standing at the window earlier, wearing only his shirt, had made his blood boil.

He was still debating if he was ever going to let her remove it when his thoughts drifted off as he followed her into sleep.

end

_The Hosting Of The Sidhe by Yeats_

The host is riding from Knocknarea  
And over the grave of Clooth-na-Bare;  
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,  
And Niamh calling Away, come away:  
Empty your heart of its mortal dream.  
The winds awaken, the leaves whirl round,  
Our cheeks are pale, our hair is unbound,  
Our breasts are heaving our eyes are agleam,  
Our arms are waving our lips are apart;  
And if any gaze on our rushing band,  
We come between him and the deed of his hand,  
We come between him and the hope of his heart.  
The host is rushing 'twixt night and day,  
And where is there hope or deed as fair?  
Caoilte tossing his burning hair,  
And Niamh calling Away, come away.

_Alone by Edgar Allan Poe_

From childhood's hour I have not been  
As others were; I have not seen  
As others saw; I could not bring  
My passions from a common spring.  
From the same source I have not taken  
My sorrow; I could not awaken  
My heart to joy at the same tone;  
And all I loved, I loved alone.   
Then- in my childhood, in the dawn  
Of a most stormy life- was drawn  
From every depth of good and ill  
The mystery which binds me still:  
From the torrent, or the fountain,  
From the red cliff of the mountain,  
From the sun that round me rolled  
In its autumn tint of gold,  
From the lightning in the sky  
As it passed me flying by,  
From the thunder and the storm,  
And the cloud that took the form  
(When the rest of Heaven was blue)  
Of a demon in my view.


End file.
